


The Light of Your Company

by siriusly_gryffindorable



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drunk Dean, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 00:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9212312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusly_gryffindorable/pseuds/siriusly_gryffindorable
Summary: A follow up piece to 'All I Do Is Hope,' written more from Dean's POV. Dean dealing with the fact that he gets drunk and hooks up with randoms and then prays to Cas.'If you believe that everything's alrightYou won't be all alone tonightAnd I'd be blessed by the light of your company,Slowly lifting me to somewhere new.'--Mayday Parade





	

The latch on the motel door clicked as the girl pulled it shut behind her in a poor attempt to sneak out. Dean wasn’t actually asleep --- just lying on his back with his eyes closed. He could still feel the liquor and adrenaline buzzing in his bloodstream. Dean opened his eyes, the room was still spinning, and he was inexplicably still hard. He sat up slowly and took another long drag from the bottle of whiskey sitting on the nightstand. A light pink bra was peeking out from the tangle of sheets at Dean’s feet. He chuckled to himself. Carly wasn’t going to get that one back. Or was it Carrie? Maybe it had been Carol? 

It didn’t matter, Dean thought, as he slipped on his boxers moving toward the bathroom. She didn’t matter. The girl had been eager and warm and willing. Dean had noticed her sitting at the end of the bar sipping her cocktail – shoulder length dark hair, clear blue eyes, and a tight white v-neck. After he bought her two long island iced teas, she would have followed Dean anywhere. He had whispered her name in her ear when he pressed her against the Impala, but she had corrected him with a giggle. Dean cracked his neck and watched his face in the mirror trying to remember more of his encounter. Suddenly his brain sparked with the answer, and he whispered, “Cas…” 

He walked slowly into the motel room, and leaned against the wall. Dean closed his eyes and reached out for Cas, murmuring his name, alcohol pushing him to call louder. He knew he needed Castiel to be there in that moment. Dean heard the rush of wings and was smiling before his eyes opened. The angel was standing there, all business, with his blade in hand, ready to strike, and Dean could not imagine wanting anything or anyone more. So he jumped, shoving Castiel onto the bed and taking exactly what his drunken brain said he needed.

In the morning, Dean was alone. His muscles were tight, and he had the contented feeling of someone who had been thoroughly pleased the night before. He scrubbed his face with his hand, trying to remember whom he’d shared his bed with. He sat up to stretch, his back and shoulders popping. All he could see in his mind’s eye were crystal blue eyes, and then he saw the pink bra on the floor and nodded to himself. The bar babe --- now he remembered. As he was packing, Castiel appeared without warning and immediately moved in to touch Dean. “Personal space, man,” Dean insisted, shrugging Castiel’s hand away. He saw Castiel narrow his eyes, so Dean just rolled his eyes and chuckled. He pulled the bra off the table and showed it to Castiel. “I’m so beat. Some bar honey rode me into oblivion last night,” Dean said with bravado. Castiel didn’t respond, just tilted his head and stared at Dean for the length of a few heartbeats, before saying goodbye and departing. And Dean was left with the gnawing feeling that he’d done something wrong.

 

_Dean wasn’t entirely sure how or when he realized what his drunken escapades really entailed. It could have been the way Cas looked at him in the days after his benders. Or the way he heard Castiel whispering his name in his dreams. But maybe it was the smell --- over the sweat and booze and perfume was something that smelled like ozone and sunlight. Dean told himself that he just needed more women. If he just went to the bar enough, screwed enough unimportant women, that he wouldn’t feel the need to call Cas. But no matter how many times he told himself to get drunk, hook up, and go to sleep, Dean woke up with blurry memories of Castiel’s hands and mouth, and his stomach would turn. Drunk Dean had a need for Cas that no amount of sober Dean could contend with. Dean was disgusted with his own weakness._

 

After several whiskeys and a quick but satisfying rendezvous in the bathroom with a brunette, whose name maybe started with a ‘B,’ Dean had found his way back into the bunker. The pep talk he’d given himself before he went to the bar about hooking up and leaving Castiel the hell out of it flew out of his brain the moment he left the woman adjusting her dress in the bathroom. Dean stumbled into his bedroom, kicking off his shoes. He tossed his shirt to the floor, and unbuttoned his jeans as he fell on the bed. He had been calling for Cas since he’d crossed the threshold of the room. When he heard the angel sigh, he sat up in the darkness, immediately drawn to Castiel’s eyes. He felt his heart swell as he attempted to cross the room coolly. His stumbles and missteps, nothing mattered the moment he had Castiel’s face in his hands. 

The water of the shower stung his skin, but Dean needed the heat to clear his head and loosen his muscles and wash the smell of his selfishness off of his body. He couldn’t remember every moment of the night before, but he knew Castiel had been there. And if Cas was there, Dean had called him. _This ends now, Dean,_ he thought to himself as he toweled off and dressed. _You aren’t doing this to yourself…or to Castiel anymore._

Dean froze in the hallway. Familiar voices were floating out of the library. Of course Castiel was here. Of course he would have to see Castiel with a hangover and guilt pounding in his head. Dean’s stomach rolled as he walked into the library, keeping his eyes on the table in front of him. He sat down trying to keep his voice light and even, “We can hit the road as long as you guys promise to whisper.” 

Dean could feel Sam’s judgmental eyes before he even looked at him. “Getting black out drunk and having aggressive nameless sex stops being cool after 30, Dean,” Sam basically shouted at him. His brother added another meant to be biting insult, but Dean didn’t hear it, he was too focused on not looking at…not wanting to look at Castiel. 

“Can it, Sammy. I’m a healthy man with healthy appetites,” he responded casually. Dean took a deep breath and turned, eyes immediately locking with Castiel’s. _You matter more than anything._ Dean could hear Castiel’s voice and see his face with perfect clarity. Cas had said that to him last night before he had kissed him. A small voice in his head urged him to stand, to go to Cas, to get what he knew he wanted while he was sober. But the rest of him screamed to look away and run away. So Dean did what he did best, he dropped his gaze and said, “I thought we were over this. You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that, Cas. It’s freaking creepy.” He did not register anything beyond the look of pain followed immediately by anger on the angel’s face. He watched Castiel disappear on the spot and he heard Sammy call him an asshole. 

Dean brought his hand up to his neck, remembering the way Castiel’s mouth had felt when the angel had straddled him in bed. The memory felt so good that it hurt. “Yeah…I know,” he whispered to no one in particular.

**Author's Note:**

> [Part 1 All I Do Is Hope](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9200132)
> 
>  
> 
> [Part 3 Stay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9294068)


End file.
